Our morning started with blueberry pancakes and coffee made by the caretakers. Fib and Hot Hands were excellent hosts. We got packed up and out of the cabin after 8 am and were on our merry way.

It was going to be another hot and humid day, but six miles in, we came to a roadside stand with a refrigerator. Inside were cold drinks, ice cream, popsicles, and other snacks. The stand was situated right in between a hot, open field and a nice climb uphill. This stop was more than welcome.

After we paid our tab and gathered our warm bodies, we started up the hill. We were met with another open field, draining the life right out of me!

It was a slow mid-afternoon. I took in some caffeinated Mio to help my case, and I was soon back on the horse.

During the last stretch of the day, I was looking at our guide for any sign of swimmable water in our future. There was a pond that we could take a blue blaze around to get to a state park! I asked Nick if he was interested, and he happily obliged.

Beartown State Forest has a sandy swimmable area and campsites for reservations. We inquired with the camp host, and they have designated free sites for hikers. Score! Before checking out the camping situation, we had to get in the water. While we were getting ourselves ready for this, another couple approached and asked if we were hiking. It turns out the lady, School Bus, is a NOBO but was injured in New York. She’s off-trail healing with her husband until she’s able to go back out and finish.

School Bus told us to come by their campsite so we can shop for some of her resupply that she’s not using.

We jumped in the water and talked to a few other folks interested in what we were up to. We realized how close we are to Great Barrington, MA, and started looking for pizza delivery.

I was able to put in a DoorDash order, and we proceeded to find our campsite and set up. It was a little out of the way but had a bear box, table, and grill.

We went over to School Bus’s site while we waited for pizza. She and her husband were so kind and offered us a bunch of food and some drinks.

There was an issue with the food delivery, so School Bus’ husband offered to pick up the pizza for us. Nick went with him, and I stayed back and got to know her. She was such a nice woman and is also a blogger here on The Trek!

We eventually got pizza and wings and downed them with a couple of root beers. We said our good nights to our trail angels and headed off to bed. It was a hot one all day and didn’t much cool down for our slumber.

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July was a homecoming. 

The month began with a strong sense of reconnection. I spent time with people I hadn’t seen in a while, and that sense of familiarity helped carry me through the heat and the end of the Mid-Atlantic. Reaching New York was a turning point, it marked the return of real elevation, and the hiking began to feel like New England again. I was also able to go home for the Fourth of July. Seeing my cat, my partner, and my dad was grounding. I got to rest for a couple of days and remember that while the finish line is near, home is even closer.

When I started this journey, my initial goal was just to make it to mid June for a wedding. Since then, my focus has shifted to reaching Vermont. I was able to slackpack through northern Connecticut and Massachusetts, which helped me move quickly through those sections. When I returned to the trail, I met so many new people which is such a fun part of trail. One of my favorite nights on trails was a beautiful sunset on Bromley Mountain. That night, more than 15 of us gathered, easily the biggest group I’d been around since Georgia. We shared food, stories, and laughter. It felt like the Appalachian Trail in its purest form. There’s something rare and special about being surrounded by strangers who feel like friends, sharing simple joys that are hard to come by in everyday life.

And yet, even in that joy, grief found me.

Grief has a way of sneaking up in moments you least expect. Many assume it strikes during sadness or reminders of loss, but I’ve learned that for me, it often hits hardest during joy, the moments I wish I could share with my mom. That night, as some people gathered around the fire and others went to bed, I returned alone to watch the fading light. I don’t often speak to my mom or the other loved ones I’ve lost but that night, I did. I sat, cried, and wrestled with the reminder that I’ll never get to share these memories with her.

Grief often arrives like that for me. I’m learning to recognize it, to welcome it rather than resist it. Writing poetry has been one of the most powerful tools to process that pain. Here’s one I wrote that night:

I see you in the fading light. 

Reminded of and my loss.

Wishing I could have more moments with you. 

Wishing I could share these memories with you. 

The light continues to fade.

My pain continues to grow.

Unable to walk forward.

Needing to move forward.

Putting my head down and living with the pain.

The light is gone now.

Yet I still look for you in the dark.

Unable to see you but able to feel you.

This is why I stay.

I wrote that poem in a moment of raw pain, and I share it here to remind others and myself that grief ebbs and flows. My mom shows up in unexpected moments, and I keep moving forward, carrying both sorrow and strength.

The end of July truly felt like a homecoming. Crossing into New Hampshire a state I’ve looked forward to since the beginning was both exhilarating and bittersweet. It was a major milestone, but also a reminder that time on the trail is running out. The temptation to go home is stronger than ever, and I’m finding that I have to push myself harder now than at any other point. My body and mind are tired. Yes, I’ve cried from the exhaustion and the longing to be done. But I will finish. Thru-hiking isn’t always an escape; sometimes, it’s a battle with yourself. 

Now that I’m in the Presidentials, I’m reminded of my deep love for New Hampshire and the place I grew up in. Maine is just around the corner, and soon I’ll be able to share the story of the end.

For now, I focus on the present on the beauty of the trail, the strength within me, and the resilience of the people I meet. The next time I update you, I’ll be finished. That moment feels far away, but in truth, it’s just a few weeks from now.

-The Godfather

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Hi, Montanaho! Crossing into another state—or two—felt like a milestone worth celebrating. This stretch of trail straddles Idaho and Montana, following the jagged spine of the Continental Divide. Panoramic views stretched endlessly, accompanied by terrain that dished out both literal and emotional highs and lows. The past few days have tested me in new ways, leaving me to question what I’m doing out here. To adjust, we eased up our pace and hiked shorter miles, which made a noticeable difference.

Yellowstone Boundary to Lima

Day 82: 20 miles/ 400 ft gain

After a night of rain and thunder, we woke to a soaked tent and damp gear—bags, pads, and backpacks included. Warm morning air at 6:30am made fetching the bear bags slightly more tolerable. We skipped cooking breakfast since we didn’t have enough water to spare and instead hiked the 12 miles to the next source. By 7:00am, we were cruising.

The 17-mile stretch into Island Park, ID followed mostly flat or downhill Forest Service roads, interrupted only by deep dips meant to deter vehicles. These dusty gravel routes were a favorite among 4×4 enthusiasts—at one point we counted 45 trucks in a row! Clouds of dust kept blowing into our faces, making the hike feel relentless. Seven miles in, we rested in the shade for a Poptart, and at mile 12, we filtered water at Moose Creek and had our early “dinner.”

At mile 14, the road turned to pavement, and after just a few steps on the blazing blacktop, we stuck our thumbs out. The first driver stopped and kindly gave us a lift the 2.5 miles to the highway—huge thanks! We then walked along Highway 20 for another mile and a half until we hit the grocery store. After grabbing snacks and a single beer, we headed across the highway to Subway.

We posted up there for two hours—recharging devices, sipping sodas, and devouring a footlong. Abbey sent us a Venmo for beer (you rock, Abbey!), so Devin ran back to the store and snagged the last can on the shelf. We sipped it at the park before beginning the final leg up Sawtell Road.

With more pavement ahead, we stuck out our thumbs again, and just like earlier, the first car stopped. A mother-daughter duo welcomed us into their truck, offering cherries and swapping stories as we wound up the road. They dropped us right where the trail met the road—saving us a dusty, noisy walk among ATVs.

From the ridge, we had an expansive view of the valley below and a tucked-away, flat camp spot. We pitched the tent right then and there. By 5:00pm, we were cozy in bed—full bellies, full hearts, and overflowing with gratitude.

Day 83: 20 miles/ 3,400 ft gain

Sunlight woke us, but we lingered in our sleeping bags. A rock poked through the tent floor under my side, but my thicker pad made it manageable. Devin, with the working door zipper, got stuck with breakfast duty while I dodged that chore. We slowly enjoyed oatmeal and coffee before hitting the trail right at 7:00am.

For the first 5.5 miles, wildflowers and thick sagebrush lined an overgrown trail—beautiful, but slow-going. Two moose appeared—one around a blind bend. We gave it space, and it didn’t seem to mind our presence. When we reconnected with better-maintained trail, we found a shady spot to plan our next water stop.

A few miles later, we found a tiny creek and scraped enough water together to fill our bottles. Shade came half a mile further, so we stopped again to hydrate and snack before beginning our 6-mile ascent toward Taylor Mountain. Switchbacks stretched far across the slope, making the climb feel never-ending despite their gentleness.

At the summit, we reached our final water source of the day—a murky puddle masquerading as a “pond.” We carefully placed rocks to stand on and slowly filled our bladders with brownish water. It worked, but barely. With heavy packs and questionable hydration, we made the final 4-mile descent to camp. Options were slim, so we grabbed the only flat ground next to the trail. Not ideal, but it did the job.

Day 84: 19.9 miles/ 3,600 ft gain

Mosquitoes buzzed in our ears as we woke—apparently the tent door had popped open during the night. By 7:00am, we were back on trail, trudging through warm, smoky morning air that painted the sky in blues and pinks. The trail undulated gently through grassy meadows, sometimes overgrown but mostly navigable.

About 6 miles in, we paused at a stream to grab water and refuel. With our biggest elevation gain ahead, we kept the break short. The climb began in thick thistles, which whipped our legs as hawks screeched overhead. Around mile 8, we entered the forest and heard the distant wails of a massive herd of sheep echoing up the valley.

Trail quality improved dramatically near Aldous Lake Trailhead. Just past the lake, we filtered water at Ching Creek before starting a brutal climb. Slippery molehills, steep grades, and overgrown brush made every step feel like a fight.

Three miles in, we paused to call and arrange a shuttle into Lima—hitching on the interstate wasn’t an option. Once that was secured, we continued past a small lake, collecting water for the night. Deadfall slowed us down, but we’d settled into the rhythm.

The final 3.5 miles followed a wind-blasted ridge. Hot sun and whipping gusts made the going tough, but we finally dropped into a sheltered grove and set up camp. Dinner was mac and cheese cooked 200 feet downwind. By 4:15pm, we were tucked into our tent, resting for town.

Day 85: 20.2 miles/ 3,000 ft gain

A speedy morning routine and we were out the door. It was town day and we scheduled a shuttle to town at 1:00pm so we had to hustle! The first 3 miles held our steepest climb of the day. The sun was still holding behind the tabs to the east, so at least the air was cool as we ascended. Once we crested the ridge, we ran into a heard of sheep with some sheep dogs guarding them. Luckily, they weren’t too aggressive and we were able to walk by without much issue. 

We refilled at Rock Spring, about 3.5 miles in, but didn’t take breakfast until mile 6.5. It was mostly flat walking through the rolling sagebrush meadow until we stopped at the edge of the forested slope. We were making great time so we took a longer break before a steep descent and our second climb. The trail was littered with deadfall on the way down and up over the next 4.5 miles. It made for slightly less efficient hiking, but we were still moving fast! 

We crested the second ridge and rentered the expansive sage brush-covered hills. Without many trees, we could see for miles ahead of us. I am always shocked at the vat emptiness of some of the land we walk through. It makes me feel small! We spotted I-15, our stopping point, 7 miles west in the valley. After a quick snack break, we got back to walking through the meadow. The trail then joined a road that we absolutely cruised down! 

We made it to the interstate around 12:45pm, and even got some trail magic in the hiker box: a beer and a sparkling water! Our shuttle arrived just before 1:00pm and pulled over on the side of I-15 for us to hop in. He stopped at the Lima Post Office so we could grab our package before it closed (it was a new tent)! Then, we got dropped off at the Beaverhead Motel. We scored an early check-in, got our laundry serviced (fancy!) and grabbed a resupply and a ton of snacks from the convenience/grocery store. 

Lima to Bannock Pass

Day 86: 5ish miles/ 1,000ish ft gain

We didn’t expect this day to be so short! Sleeping in an actual bed felt luxurious, and we rolled out around 7:30am. After polishing off some Donettes for breakfast, we packed up and left the motel by 9:00am.

Originally, we planned to hike 13 miles, but hitching south on I-15 proved tricky. For an hour, no one stopped. While scanning maps, Devin suggested an alternate: follow back roads west of town to reach a trailhead near the CDT. Although it meant skipping a few miles, it lined up better with our timing to meet my mom in five days.

We started walking under a blazing sun—easy miles but no shade. After 3 miles, a kind man picked us up on his way to a worksite at the exact trailhead we were targeting. We swapped stories and learned a ton about the local area. Thank you, Aaron!

Once dropped off, we followed a nearly invisible road out of the valley. Though we only had 2 miles to the CDT, steep, brushy terrain made progress slow. But at the top, we were greeted by sweeping views of Lima Peaks and Garfield Mountain.

Since we were farther along than expected, we decided to stop early. With Buffalo Spring nearby—a clean, cold water source—we set up camp and relaxed in the tent by 1:30pm. Movies, reading, and rest filled the rest of the day.

Day 87: 19.5 miles/ 3,500 ft gain

Warm air clung to the morning as I slid out of my sleeping bag. With our longest day of the section ahead, we packed up quickly and hit the trail at 7:00am. For the first 2 miles, we followed a line of CDT posts over gently rolling hills, then joined a road that carried us another 5.

Under a big Montana sky, we moved steadily as a herd of pronghorn trotted alongside us. They’d sprint ahead, pause, then watch us catch up—this repeated until a fence line finally separated us. We took our breakfast break after 7 fast miles, resting briefly before the day’s first major climb.

Rather than skirting the ridgelines, the trail charged straight over them. Our knees and feet ached from the effort. After cresting the ridge, we descended sharply to Deadman Lake, our lunch stop. Calm, teal water and a light breeze made for a perfect break spot, and we sprawled out on the groundsheet to rest.

Then came another stiff climb—1,000 feet straight up the opposite ridge. A cloudless sky beat down on us, but the ascent went by faster than expected. From the narrow pass, the view west opened wide.

The final miles flowed downhill through meadows and occasional forest cover. We found a dream campsite: shaded, next to a cold creek, complete with a bench and a bear hang. Days like this make it all feel worth it.

Day 88: 9.9 miles/ 2,200 ft gain

My watch buzzed me awake, and I pried open tired eyes. No matter how long I rest, mornings are always hard. I lowered the bear bags and whipped up a bare-bones oatmeal breakfast with one shared coffee. By 7:40am, we were on the move.

The trail followed the river downstream for 2.5 chilly miles. Cold wind whipped through the valley as the sun began to rise. Smoke in the air gave everything a hazy, yellow cast. We transitioned from flat trail to a gentle climb up a gravel road.

After 4 miles, we reached Harkness Lakes and stopped for snacks. Studying the map and reading water comments, we realized our planned destination involved a long dry stretch. Since the next day would only be 10 miles, we decided to camp earlier beside a reliable source 3.4 miles ahead.

The trail left the open sage and entered thick forest as we climbed again, eventually cresting a ridge near Cottonwood Peak. It felt alpine—our favorite. A final descent dropped us into a cool, shaded site by the creek. Bugs were minimal, and we were set up by noon. The rest of the day passed in a haze of books, movies, and naps.

Day 89: 13.3 miles/ 2,500 ft gain

Yesterday’s afternoon thunderstorm left the ground wet and soft as we retrieved our bear bags. For once, both of us woke up feeling rested and ready to go—maybe a trail first. We cooked breakfast and packed in under 40 minutes.

Most of the day’s gain hit early. We knocked out a 1,000-foot climb in 2 miles, rising through forested hills and along a breezy ridgeline. At the top, jaw-dropping views surrounded us—peaks in every direction. After a short descent, another 600-foot climb brought us to a cliff-lined canyon.

The trail traced the canyon edge before descending slowly into a lush valley where we crossed several creeks. With music in my ears, I hiked faster than usual—rhythm keeps me moving.

One final 700-foot climb led us onto a grassy slope, where an ATV road joined the trail. I startled some cows in the meadow and felt bad for making them run—seemed like a lot of work for them!

We passed two SOBO hikers and traded trail notes before parting ways. At Morrison Lake, we pitched camp on the north shore to catch a good sunrise.

Day 90: 13.1 miles/ 3,800 ft gain

The sun rose slowly over a mirror-still lake as I opened the tent door. Chill air and singing birds greeted us, but I wasn’t thrilled about the brutal elevation ahead. Despite sweating within minutes, my feet and fingers stayed numb the first couple of miles.

The trail felt like a roller coaster—endless ups and downs over steep, rolling hills. Every crest revealed a wider view of the northbound trail and the distant ranges.

Devin and I separated to hike our own pace, though we stayed within sight. I didn’t eat until 11 miles in, stopping just before the final big climb for a rushed breakfast. I know I should’ve fueled earlier, but I was deep in the hiking flow, moving to the beat of my music.

The last couple of miles wrapped gradually around Elk Mountain’s south ridge. At a spring near the top, I heard a cheerful “Cloud!” called out. Six SOBO hikers sat in a circle and somehow all knew my name—Devin had introduced me ahead of time. We swapped stories and shared excitement about what was still to come.

After goodbyes, I continued up the trail to where Devin had already picked out a great site under stubby pines. It positioned us perfectly to reach Bannock Pass the following afternoon. Another peaceful evening in the tent capped off a challenging but rewarding section.

Day 91: 11.5 miles/ 1,300 ft gain 

Devin and I intended to sleep in, but by 6:30am we were both wide awake. We stayed cozy in our bags for a while, savoring the slower morning, before finally packing up and hitting the trail by 8:00am. Though the day looked easy on paper, the first mile packed a punch—it included the summit of Elk Mountain and half of our elevation gain.

We reached the top quickly and lingered for a while, enjoying the views and the rare treat of cell service. Devin headed out a bit earlier while I called my mom to confirm plans. She’d be meeting us at Bannock Pass, 10.5 miles down trail, and I wanted to make sure everything was good to go.

I flew down the descent, energized by the smooth, well-maintained trail. Around mile 6.5, Devin waited under a shady tree and we took a break together—snacking, chatting, and soaking in the peacefulness. From there, we cruised the remaining miles along a gentle ATV road that rolled up and over low hills. Elk Mountain and the pass stayed in view the entire time, landmarks keeping us company.

By 12:30pm, we dropped down into the pass and found a picnic table tucked near the road. With an hour to spare, we sprawled out, pulled out our phones, and watched an episode of Ted Lasso—trail luxury at its finest.

At 1:30pm, my mom rolled up with my dog riding proudly in the backseat. That reunion? Pure joy. A moment that made every mile worth it.